Good Deal
by swoonycrooner
Summary: The only thing as valuable as winning a war is a beautiful princess. When Rumpelstiltskin makes a deal for Belle, will her life ever be the same? For that matter, will his? Takes place in fairytale land. Inspired by Price to be Paid by Sparks.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Belle rushed to the throne room, finally deemed presentable by her maids. She had just changed out of her bloodied dress from her time spent helping in the infirmary. Catching her breath, she pushed open the heavy gilded door to the throne room and surveyed the scene. Her father was in the middle of a massive argument with most of the royal cabinet. She slipped behind her father's shouting advisors and found an empty space around the table. The map of Avonlea, carved intricately into the table, held nearly two dozen playing pieces. Some had been made particularly for this purpose, but some had been stolen from sets of Cyvasse, a strategy game. Belle examined the most recent developments. The placeholder for foot soldiers had been moved to the east, no doubt to protect the Marquise's land. The Marquise's castle was lavish and ornate, but it was built in a supremely poorly defendable area. The choice to build it in a valley was more for ostentation than practicality, as if to say that the Kingdom was so well off that they could afford to put a beautiful gem of a castle in a place where it could easily be destroyed. Moreover, only a small group of people could be housed in the castle walls. It was a poorly constructed building, just as the plan for its defense was poorly planned. More importantly, it was poorly chosen as top priority. Just then, the cacophony of voices quieted to allow for the Marquise and Gaston's argument to dominate the room.

"We do not need to sacrifice citizens to protect your overstated, glorified henhouse!" bellowed Gaston.

"The Palais is the symbol of Avonlea!" the Marquise insisted. "If the Palais falls, what hope will there be for the kingdom? We are the cultural center of the world…"

The contrast was very nearly comical. Gaston, whose machismo defined his outward appearance, standing toe to toe with the painted, bejeweled Marquise whose style even included platform shoes adorned with bows. The Marquise's painted lips spread into a simpering grin as he turned to King Maurice.

"Your Majesty," he began, sweetening his voice. "Do you not agree that upholding the morale of the kingdom is the most pressing priority?"

"Not if it means that hundreds of civilians will die." Belle interrupted. The Marquise's grin turned sour.

"They will become martyrs," he spat at her. "What's better for the war than a martyr?"

"Perhaps winning the war," grumbled the king.

"If we evacuate the Palais to my father's stronghold we could save hundreds of lives!" interjected Gaston. It was true, Belle thought. Gaston's father could certainly support the thousand-odd occupants. The conditions of the decision would be problematic. Maurice would be indebted to Duke Jacques, so much that Gaston's future bride could be none other than Belle, securing him the throne. Gaston had begun courting her in the last several months, with a chaperone. Their relationship unfortunately was completely platonic. The meals they had shared were full of engaging political discussion. They tended to agree on most issues, and thankfully Gaston was as dedicated to the good of the people as Belle was.

Gaston was winning the argument. "What good are symbols of the kingdom when its people are dead?"

King Maurice finally stood, having heard hours of argument on this singular topic. He imagined no other possible counterarguments other than the ones he had already heard, often more than once. Looking out at the crowd of his most trusted friends, he felt far older than a man of his age should.

"We will save the Palais," he stated grimly. "It is the home of my departed Anne, and the heart of the kingdom. There is no Avonlea without the Palais."

Belle was furious.

"Papa," she cried, "people will die." Maurice looked down, hiding his watery eyes. "You are sacrificing children for a pretty old building." Her anger was clear, disappointment shone through the tears welling in her eyes.

"Better listen to your father, Princess," offered the Marquise, false sympathy oozing from his words. Belle turned to leave, but stopped in front of the Marquise.

"I hope you watch them die for your luxury," Belle responded quietly, fury barely contained. She pushed past the advisors and left, her skirts rustling as she strode down the hall. Gaston caught up with her and pulled her into an unoccupied ballroom. Tears were falling down her face, a product of her anger and helplessness. Gaston grabbed her upper arms, as if to stabilize her. His thumbs rubbed circles on her skin soothingly.

"We will save them," he promised. He caught her eyes in his gaze. "We will."

Belle nodded. "We'll find a way," she agreed.

"I'll talk to the king, see if there's something we missed," he said, wiping a tear from her face. "We will find a way."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Maurice had been enjoying his usual nightcap when Gaston entered with his last, most desperate ideas. After his fifth scotch, Maurice blurted "What about that magician? He could—" he paused to hiccup "fix us all up."

Gaston froze in thought. "He could," he said. "But sir, he doesn't just give. He trades. What could we have that he wants?"

"We got towns," Maurice gurgled. "He could have any town he wants so long as s'not Palais or Kingston."

"Your highness," Gaston smiled. "I think we have a plan."

The next morning, Belle entered the throne room and quietly went to Gaston's side. She took his hand, hidden by the folds of her skirt.

"Did you find a way?" she asked. He squeezed her hand.

"We did," he whispered back.

The counselors trickled in, some talking in pairs, others with their nosees in books, and one, Monsieur Guillaume, pulling his arms through the sleeves of his doublet, having obviously overslept. When they had all arranged themselves at their seats around the table, Gaston kissed Belle's knuckles reassuringly and moved to take his seat. Belle sat in her usual place at the side of the room. Her seat was in front of the window so she could have good light for reading when she got bored and so she got a good breeze on hot days.

Then the Marquise waltzed in, all pomp and circumstance. Expecting to be fashionably late, he was disappointed to find that he had not disrupted the discussion. He grumpily sat at the only remaining chair that was not the throne to wait for the king. At long last, Maurice limped in, a result of the alcohol exacerbating his gout. The room quieted as he settled into his throne and began to speak.

"I have decided," he began, his voice rumbling, "for the good of the kingdom to save not only its heart, but also its people. It is because of my dedication to the kingdom and my daughter that I have decided to ask the aid of Rumpelstiltskin."

The room erupted in shouts of protest.

"SILENCE!" the king demanded. "This has been decided. I am willing to offer any of our towns save the Palais and Kingston in exchange for the security of the Palais."

Just then, a page burst in with news. "The ogres have attacked, and closer this time," he exclaimed. "We need help in the infirmary and in the weapons tent, if it please m'lords," he finished.

Being trained as doctors, several advisors stood to ask permission to leave. Guillaume who had overslept tugged off his jacket again in preparation for the smithy where he'd been master before Maurice had befriended him over a pint of ale.

"We shall rejoin at midday," Maurice declared, "when we will summon the beast. Go now," he ordered and the room emptied, each man going to where he was needed most. Belle rushed to her chambers to change into a suitable nurse's dress for another morning spent in the infirmary.

When she returned to the throne room at noon, she again went to Gaston's side.

"This was your way out?" she questioned. "It was," he responded. "It will work out, you'll see."

Belle scrunched her nose. "The stories never make it seem like the ones asking for the deal ever get the good end of it."

Gaston smiled down at her. "Trust me," he said, jokingly flashing the charming smile and wink that he was so known for throughout the kingdom. Belle rolled her eyes. "Fine!" she smiled back, as Maurice maneuvered onto his feet.

"It is time," he announced. He paused a moment to take a deep breath, then projected loudly "Rumpelstiltskin, I summon thee!"

Everyone in the room held their breath, waiting.

Nothing happened. Then there was a knock at the door.

Maurice hobbled closer to the door. "Open it!" he ordered the pages. They hastily pulled open the heavy doors to reveal…nothing.

"Well, _that_ was a bit of a letdown."

Belle whirled around to find a funny man with gray skin and lank hair in her father's throne.

"How did you get in here?" Gaston blurted out.

"Magic, dearie," Rumpelstiltskin replied with a wave of his hand. "Now, I believe you wanted something?" he addressed the king.

"Can you end this war with the ogres?" Maurice asked. Belle tugged on Gaston's sleeve. "That was not what we decided!" she whispered. Gaston nodded, his face showing his confusion with the king.

"I can," replied the beast. "And my payment?"

"There are several towns you can choose from," said the king. "Fishtown, Grimmsburg, Dulac—"

"A washed-up port, a crossroads for drunks, and a pile of burnt rubble," Rumpelstiltskin countered. Belle agreed with his summary, but the court had not known that the ogres had destroyed Dulac. No survivors to tell of it, it seemed.

"Gold?" Maurice offered hopefully.

"No no no," he stood and walked about the room. "I require something more special," he said as he meandered to face the king. "I want her." His finger pointed at Belle.

"Me?" she gasped. Gaston drew his arm around her shoulders protectively and turned so he was blocking her from Rumpelstiltskin's view.

"What do you want with her?" He asked, anger in his tone.

"I'm in need of a wife. She'll do nicely." He giggled, high pitched and menacing.

"You can't have her," Gaston barked, not even giving the idea of losing Belle to a monster a thought. But Belle's mind worked quickly.

"If the deal were only to save the Palais with no harm done to our soldiers or citizens," she asked, "what would your price be?" He turned and locked eyes with her.

"The same," he answered seriously. "Though if you think you can win this little war by yourselves you're quite mistaken. I've seen your forces." He turned to address the court. "You put children to killing before they can count to fifty. And they call me the crazy one." He gestured at Maurice. Some of the counselors glanced at one another nervously, as though a secret had been revealed. Rumpelstiltskin noticed but said nothing.

"So do we have a deal?"

"No," the king said dejectedly.

"Wait," interjected Belle, shrugging of Gaston's arm. "If I marry you, the kingdom will be safe?"

"No more shall die from ogres' attacks," he promised with a small bow. Belle turned to look at Gaston. "Women have married for less," she reasoned.

"Belle, we're to be married," he reminded her. Not of their marriage, but of the safe and comfortable life he had promised her. Strong children and a castle to run, a king who would listen to her, and trusting companionship for the rest of her life even if love never came.

There was apology in her eyes as she said "I could never be happy knowing I could have prevented so many deaths in my kingdom." She glanced at her father as an afterthought.

"I'll marry you," she told Rumpelstiltskin. He grinned. "The deal is struck!" He giggled again. "I'll come for you at sundown." He promised, then disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.

Nobody moved, just stared at Belle, Gaston, and the King, whose face seemed to have aged a decade since morning.

"I…I must pack," Belle stated quietly and left the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

She walked at a steady pace down the halls, her shoes clicking against the stone floors where the rugs ended. She sent a servant to find her handmaiden, Emmeline, to help her pack. Two wooden trunks were hers to fill. One with her impressive if outdated wardrobe and the other with her trousseau, and anything she could think of that her husband might not provide. She packed a box of medicinal herbs for small ailments like headaches and cramps, and a few of the rarer of her favorite books. She wrapped a few sentimental objects in cloth: a miniature of her father and her jewelry box passed down from her great-grandmother. Before she set it gently in her trunk, she replaced the silver chain and pendant necklace with her mother's golden one. So that her mother could be at the wedding. She packed a stack of letters tied up with string, to read when she got homesick. Emmeline arrived just then, and gathered Belle in her arms. Emmeline had been like a mother to her, since her own mother had died. It had been her who had comforted the little princess when her first bleeding time came, and it had been her to explain what men and women do when they share a bed. Belle could no longer hold in her emotions, tossing about confusedly inside her head, and she started sobbing in Emmeline's embrace. Her stress finally caught up to her. She would never see her home again. The place where she grew up, the maids in the kitchen who used to sneak her orange slices at yuletime and the boys she used to play with who became knights…she was more likely to see them storming her husband's castle than at a jousting tourney.

"Shh…there there, my princess…" Emmeline soothed. The title "princess" was an endearment, as it had always been, not an acknowledgement of rank. Belle took great gulps of air, trying hard to be quiet. She didn't want anybody else to know that she was not handling her duty well.

"I'm going to be so alone," she grieved, sitting on the bed.

"You don't know that, dear," Emmeline said. "He could live in a village."

"Who would live in a village with him?" Belle asked. "Murderers and thieves?"

"No, dear. Sprites and dwarves, and everyone has a pet zebra. I bet there's even a stable just for unicorns," Emmeline joked.

"And there will be a garden where the flowers all talk to you, and the butterflies have bad tempers," Belle added.

"You'd never have to miss your father then, would you? I bet your husband will give you a pet monkey, so you'd never have to miss Gaston either."

This made Belle laugh. "Only if he wears trousers."

They laughed for a minute, then quieted. "You're doing a very brave thing, you know," Emmeline mentioned.

"I don't feel brave," Belle pouted.

"You are so very brave," Emmeline argued. "Remember that stupid horse you got for your twelfth birthday?"

"I love Phillipe," Belle said stubbornly.

"The stupid horse thought that anything put on his back was a basket of apples!" Emmeline argued. "So you rode him bareback. We all expected him to think that you were a sack of sugar cubes and throw you off right then."

"But he didn't," Belle stated. "He loved being ridden."

"Yes, but only by you." Emmeline agreed.

Belle grinned. "That's what makes him the best!"

Emmeline smiled back, but sobered as she remembered something. "You know, you might be expected to perform certain duties," she said concernedly. "Wifely duties."

Belle's eyes widened. "I had not thought of that," she admitted. "What…what do I do?"

Emmeline sighed, thinking hard. "Well…if he is kind, and wants you to enjoy it…whatever you feel like. If he's not, it's probably best to do as he says and wait for it to be over."

Belle tried to process the advice. "Will it hurt?" she asked.

"The first time always hurts," Emmeline said. "But there are ways to make it easier to bear. If he pleasures you first, and if it's…slippery enough." She struggled with the words. Telling a girl she thought of as her daughter about how her most vulnerable moment would be with a monster was no easy thing.

"But you can always ask," she added, "and tell him what you want. Most men prefer that you do."

Belle was still confused, and didn't feel much better off than before the advice. She assumed she would understand when it happened.

She glanced at the clocktower. Three hours till sunset.

"I think I'll go to the infirmary," she said. There were always things to distract her there.

"I'll finish packing. All that's left are your linens, yes?"

"Yes. Will you help me change?"

Emmeline helped Belle change into her nurse's dress, and convinced her to sit still while she did up her hair in a somewhat elaborate ponytail. She chattered about her family to distract her, telling about how her son believed that babies came from eggs like chickens did, and how she found him looking for eggshells around the apartment from his baby brother. She then put a net over Belle's hairdo to keep it out of the way while she worked. This way, she would be able to change quickly into her wedding gown when the time came.

Belle thanked Emmeline, and left for the infirmary with a smile, thinking about children.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

It was nearly sunset when Belle finished wrapping up the boy's chest in clean bandages. He had suffered a stab wound in the shoulder and it had gotten infected, but he didn't know that. He just knew it hurt. Belle could see the darkened skin around the puncture site that had recently spread up the side of his neck. His face was pale and sweaty, and his glassy eyes sought out Belle's.

"I'm dying, aren't I?"

Belle looked into his eyes and saw him hoping. She could not tell whether he hoped to survive or whether he hoped that the pain would end soon with death.

"Yes, sweet one. But we're all dying, very slowly." She tried being honest.

The boy was silent. He seemed too tired to shift to look out the window at the red sky and orange clouds, but he tried anyway.

"Da says when people die, they go to a great feast in the sky." His voice cracked on the last word. "He said me mum's there, and me grand-da. And little baby Aerin," he said, remembering.

Belle held his hand. "My father said the same thing. He said in the castle in the sky, kings and countrymen all eat together, then battle, then sleep. And in the morning, it starts all over again. What do you think of that?"

He shifted back to look at her. "I think I'm done with fighting. It's…not as good as they said it would be," he said, barely a whisper.

"But in the sky, there is no pain," Belle disagreed. "You'll live another day, and never hurt anymore. And you'll be with your family. Your ma, your grand-da…"

"My sister," he finished weakly

"Yes," Belle agreed. She saw that he was fading. "You'll see them all soon. They're so excited to see you again."

His grip loosened, and Belle could hold back her tears no longer. She let them fall.

"Jaeson?" she said, hoping for a response. His eyes were stuck on a spot above Belle's head. "Jaeson?" She tried again. His chest had stopped its motions and he lay stiller than any living person should. "Oh no, please…" Belle murmured, not even realizing that she was speaking. She checked his neck for a pulse, put her ear to his chest in vain. She stayed there for a moment. He tried so hard, but he was gone. It wasn't fair.

"He's gone, dearie," a low voice behind her said. Rumpelstiltskin stepped out of the shadows. Belle sat up and tried to wipe her face dry with her sleeves.

"He was only thirteen," she mourned, looking into the boy's frozen face.

"He will be the last," the man said. He stepped behind her and closed the boy's eyes with two fingers. "I promise." He placed a hand on her shoulder, and it felt almost comforting.

Belle's emotions were spent. She had no energy left to resent this creature for taking her from her home, and not even enough to hate the ogres who had killed the boy. She sat, dejected, holding Jaeson's hand.

"Perhaps you'd better change," Rumpelstiltskin hinted. Belle looked down at her dress and remembered herself.

"Oh, yes," she said, standing up. "I've packed two trunks, I hope you don't mind. The only wedding dress I have is my mother's, it's yellow…"

"No matter to me," he said, waving his hand as if to swat away pesky ideas like packing and dresses.

"I—I'll meet you in the Great Hall in half an hour." Belle stated. She left the room in a hurry, realizing that if she wasn't ready soon he could rescind his offer.

Emmeline had been hard at work since Belle left. She had finished packing the linens, and she had even retrieved Belle's favorite toys from when she was a little girl. A stuffed bear whose button eyes were falling off, a silver rattle, and a porcelain doll with red hair. Emmeline knew the woman whose hair it belonged to. She had been a servant in the kitchens at the time, only sixteen years old when she got pregnant. She had sold her hair to a tinker to try and save up for a place to live, maybe take a room in an inn and be a barmaid. She had died on the birthing bed, but the baby had been adopted by a family in town. Emmeline sighed. You never know where a woman will end up. With men it was easy, they would either follow their fathers into court or in a church, or they would be no-good layabouts and wanderers. Or worse, minstrels.

Emmeline rushed about the castle, enlisting the help of everyone she could find to help make Belle's wedding as happy as it could be, under the circumstances. By the end, half of the castle pulled together to decorate the Great Hall for their beloved princess. Men had moved pews from the chapel storage and arranged them in rows with an aisle in between. They realized that there would be more people attending than who could fit in the pews, so they called a massive effort to gather as many of the chairs and benches in the castle as they could into the Great Hall. They tried their best to make neat rows, but considering the different shapes and sizes of the chairs, it didn't look as perfect as they wanted.

The women set to decorating, using a table for an altar and taking the best rugs out of storage. A long, narrow rug was set down for the aisle, and the head butler sent up one of the finest wines they had for the ceremony. The children were sent outside—but not too far—to collect as many flowers as they could. The older girls set the younger ones to pulling the petals off daisies to scatter down the aisle, and argued over who would be the princess' flower girl. The maids gathered bundles of flowers (they could hardly be called bouquets) and hung them on the walls to seem festive. The altar was quickly covered by flowers and herbs that were said to bring luck and fertility to a marriage.

By sunset, the Great Hall had become a grand reception hall, not quite fit for a princess' wedding but still impressive. Candles were placed around the room to produce an ethereal glow, and two goblets of red wine sat on the altar. Everyone in the castle of some rank took seats at the front of the room in the pews, and everyone else who could fit sat in the rows of chairs or stood against the wall. All they were missing were the bride and groom.

Twenty minutes after seeing Rumpelstiltskin in the infirmary, Belle stood in the Great Hall. Her yellow ball gown was barely being held up by her body. Her mother's shoulders had been broader than her own, so the sleeves slipped down the sides of her arms in what Belle hoped was an appropriate way. One of her handmaidens passed her a bouquet of flowers—gladiolus and lavender—and the doors to the Great Hall opened. She was greeted with a truly beautiful sight. The hall had darkened without the sunlight, but the candles around the room twinkled like fireflies and made the flowers seem like they glowed. She walked up the makeshift aisle to her future husband, making eye contact not with him but with the people in the crowd who she knew had helped. She smiled at her father in the front pew, and Emmeline standing to the side next to the holy men who were witnessing. She noticed the Marquise looking pleased with himself for something—oh, he was sitting next to Rosalind, a servant girl whose generous chest was barely covered by her dress. That would explain it. She made eye contact with her friends in court, the few women who had been friendly to her while they embroidered together to pass the time in winters, and her father's counselors who had recommended books to her. They smiled back encouragingly, thanking her for what she was about to do. Her radiant smile was not one of a bride-to-be, but of a person who had just received the best present of her life. Her wedding was beautiful.

She took her place at Rumpelstiltskin's left side and handed off her bouquet to Emmeline, her witness. She turned to face the groom, who locked eyes with her. It seemed he was daring her to continue. He offered his right hand, which she took in her own. He then produced a gold ribbon out of thin air and held it next to their clasped hands. Belle reached beneath their hands to grab the end of the ribbon and, with Rumpelstiltskin, tied a simple knot together. Their first action as a couple. Despite her apparent calmness, Belle felt like she was shaking all over as she said the words.

"I, Belle," she began nervously, "consent and gladly give myself to thee, Rumpelstiltskin, to be your wedded wife, till death do us part."

Rumpelstiltskin's eyes showed his surprise at her quick and clear voice saying the vows, and then echoed her words, his voice deeper and resounding through the room.

"I, Rumpelstiltskin, take thee, Belle, to be my wedded wife, till death do us part."

He then leaned forward to kiss her. She leaned too, and met his lips with…the left corner of her lips.

She missed. Her very first kiss, and Belle missed! She pulled back for a moment. Then, ignoring the confusion in his eyes, Belle leaned her head forward and kissed him again. On target, this time, hurrah!

He pulled back, and so did she, a blush spreading across her cheeks. Suddenly the room felt overcrowded. So many people, people she'd known for as long as she could remember, just saw her first blundering kiss, and it would be their last memory of her.

Someone broke the silence. "To Rumpelstiltskin and his bride!"

Cheers filled the hall, somewhat halfhearted but at least it wasn't silent. Belle and Rumpelstiltskin dropped their hands, but Belle held on to the golden ribbon. They each picked up a goblet of wine and drank through their linked arms, as was custom. The crowd cheered louder for the love of their princess. The people celebrated the best way they knew how: by getting drunk. Cups of wine and ale were being passed around, and Belle looked around the room at all of the people she loved. She saw her father (who had clearly started drinking early), and the unfortunate page who was chosen to be his babysitter for the night. Gaston stood leaning against the wall, his eyes trying to convey all that he felt toward her situation. She could see sorrow for her marriage, and best wishes for her future.

Rumpelstiltskin, upon noticing this silent exchange, decided that that was enough.

"Marvelous!" he clapped. "Best wedding I've had yet. We must be going, busy night ahead of us!" He said with a wink. Belle guessed there were about to poof away.

"Goodbye!" she cried, and they were gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Belle's feet hit the floor and her knees immediately buckled. Luckily, Rumpelstiltskin's arms held her firmly up.

"Careful, dearie," he cautioned. Belle gasped for air and started panicking.

"Put…me…down!" she forced out between breaths. The trip from her father's castle was the longest she'd ever had in her life. It felt like she was trapped in a person-sized jug with no light, no sound, and no air. Rumpelstiltskin complied and lowered her safely to the carpeted floor of the entrance hall.

Belle sat on the ground and put her head on her knees. "That was awful." She moaned.

Rum had the decency to feel ashamed_. I suppose I should have warned her_, he thought, remembering the first time he had traveled that way.

"Terribly sorry, milady" he said, trying to sound unconcerned. "Can I show you to your room?"

Belle looked up. "My room?"

"Well, yes. Where else would I put you?" he replied.

Belle took a couple of deep breaths and stood up shakily. Rum took her left hand in his own, and snaked his right arm around her waist for support.

"Right this way, milady," and he led her out of the great hall.

As they walked, their minds both worked in different directions. Rum was contemplating the amount of time since he'd ever had physical contact with a woman, especially one who didn't protest. Belle was still recovering from the unpleasant traveling conditions while trying to take in her surroundings. The castle seemed dark and cold, and very quiet.

"Where are the servants?" she asked. Surely a castle this large would have many people to take care of it.

"What servants?" he said, still caught up in his thoughts.

"The ones who run the castle," she replied.

"There aren't any," he said.

"How do you keep the castle going?" she asked, astonished.

"Magic, dearie." This hadn't occurred to Belle. Being completely alone in a gigantic castle…was there a town nearby? She asked this out loud.

"Why, trying to escape already?" he said, avoiding the question.

"No! I just thought it must be lonely here."

Choosing to ignore her question, he stopped in front of a large door carved with roses. "Your chambers, milady."

She looked at it apprehensively, expecting to find…well, she didn't know. She looked at him suspiciously, trying to find a clue that there was something smelly or carnivorous behind the door.

"Well, go on." He nudged her toward the door. Belle turned the handle and pushed. The door swung open to reveal a room twice the size of hers at Avonlea, with several doors leading off to what could only be more rooms. Her eyes were wide as she asked, "And these are all mine?"

"As much as you are mine," he quipped. Belle ignored that remark as she stepped dazedly into the room, wondering at all of the gold that was woven into the bedspread and inlaid in the woodwork.

"It's lovely, she murmured, feeling the soft texture of the bedspread. Rumpelstiltskin watched her back from the doorway. He noticed her head lift when she saw the glass doors leading to the balcony. She picked up her skirts a little to walk quickly to push them open and step out into the night air. Her eyes swept over the mountains and the distant forests, looking for something familiar.

"It smells different," she said to herself.

"It should. You're very far from home." Rumpelstiltskin had transported himself to the doorway to the balcony behind her.

"How far?" she asked, still searching for a river or stream that could lead to the same ocean whose shore was shared with Avonlea.

"Three weeks' travel on foot, to the northeast," he replied honestly, leaning against the doorframe. "You know, a lot can happen to a princess walking alone in the kingswood," he mentioned.

"I don't want to escape," she said, all of the emotions of the day suddenly threatening to overflow. "I've…never been this far from home before."

Rumpelstiltskin heard the quiver in her voice. "Well I'm off again," he said, standing up straight. Belle turned to look at him.

"Where?"

"To solve your little ogre problem. I always keep my promises," he smiled a little crookedly. "You'll find everything you need. I'd recommend not leaving your chambers, you'll never find your way back. Or out," he said as an afterthought.

Belle nodded. And with a little bow, he disappeared.

She was alone. Not a soul for miles, she reasoned. She could see no smoke trailing up into the sky for as far as she could see into the wilderness. The view was spectacular, she had to admit. Tilting her head back, Belle looked at the stars. She recognized a few of the constellations that she had learned as a child, but they were warped into a different part of the sky. Probably because she was so far from home.

Belle shivered, realizing how chilly the wind was. She went inside and closed the glass doors and locked them with the little hook attached to the doorknob. She surveyed the room once more, taking account of its attributes. There was a large bed, an armoire, and a sofa and armchair settled near the fireplace. She wished for a fire, thinking of how the cold of autumn pervaded the room. At that very moment, a fire roared into existence in the fireplace and made her jump.

"I guess that's how the magic works," she said to herself. She took a deep breath. It had been a while since she had been free to do whatever she wanted. There had always been something to do, servants to instruct, citizens to comfort, and a schedule to follow. And if there was any free time, that was taken up by mandatory needlework. If she ever got a few minutes of peace, she pulled out a book to read for as long as she could manage. But now she didn't feel like reading. She felt tired, and still grimy from working in the infirmary. _That felt like it happened ages ago,_ she thought. A bath was in order, she decided.

She opened one of the doors leading off from her bedroom and found a powder room, complete with bathtub, sink, and what could only be described as a fancy chamber pot. There was a table covered in various beauty products. Perfumes from across the sea, a potion for dreamless sleep, another to de-age the skin. She found some soap that was much more refined and perfumed than the lye she was accustomed to from home. They had stopped importing frivolities to Avonlea since the war started. Soap and cloth in hand, she turned to the tub. She tried wishing for hot water, which promptly began pouring out of a metal tube that ran from inside the wall to the edge of the porcelain tub. This would take some getting used to.

While the bath filled itself, Belle attempted to get out of her wedding dress. It laced up the back so untying the knots that Emmeline had made was difficult. She noticed that there was no mirror in the room. _That makes things harder,_ she thought. Finally, after untangling the laces and loosening the corset bit by bit, she stepped out of her yellow dress. She finished undressing and got in the tub, relishing the hot water from her toes to her neck. She remembered to take down her hair before dunking her head underwater. Everything else in the world disappeared when she was underwater. She focused on her body feeling weightless in the water, the warmth all over her body, and the sound of the water lapping against the walls of the tub.

Belle left the steamy bathroom after scrubbing herself clean, now smelling of lavender and roses. Hoping Rumpelstiltskin was not back yet, she went to her trunk (which had appeared helpfully near the armoire) and to put on her flannel nightgown, as it was the beginning of a cold night, and her lace-trimmed dressing gown. She rummaged through her trunks and pulled out one of her favorite books: a satirical instruction book on love and marriage. She had debated whether or not to bring this book, but seeing as it wasn't much use to the military efforts she decided for it_. Perhaps I'll find some tips for my new life. _ She laughed to herself_, or more likely examples of what not to do._

Belle curled up on the sofa and draped her hair over her shoulders so it might dry from being near the fire. A soft blanket appeared thoughtfully on the back of the sofa, which she tucked her feet into and pulled up over her legs. She began to read.

**Chapter One: A House is Not a Home**

**"When your husband is unhappy, nobody is happy," spouted the matchmaker of Southerland to her reluctant audience…**

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A/N: Thanks for the reviews! You guys are awesome. Finals are starting so progress will be slower... But this is going to be a long ass-fic. I'm so excited to see what happens!


	6. Chapter 6

Belle woke for the first time in her new home. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and pushed herself up to sit, and then pulled apart the curtains on the bed. Nobody had closed the drapes last night and the sunlight revealed even more glinting golden threads woven into the carpet and inlaid in the woodwork. Especially now, Rumpelstiltskin's handiwork was visible. She took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. Her husband. The magician, the deal-maker, the monster. Why hadn't he come for her last night? She had been waiting for him. She didn't remember climbing under the heavy covers or braiding her hair. Perhaps he had come after she fell asleep? She pulled her thick braid out of the ribbon that held it together. She had never seen it before, the bright gold was completely different from the discarded ribbons and bits of found twine she used to collect to pull her hair up in a pinch. Belle slid out of bed and padded to her hope chest. She opened the lid and breathed in the musty smell of home. She didn't realize how long she'd been on the floor until she felt her stomach grumble.

After managing to dress by herself, Belle left her room in search of food. It had been no easy task since nearly all of her dresses laced up the back. She had looked for a mirror to tidy her hair, but found none. She brushed her hair—one hundred strokes, as always—and pulled the hair near her temples behind her head and secured it with the golden ribbon. Throwing the rest of her long hair over her shoulder, she opened the door and stepped from the safety of her bedroom into the corridor. She turned right, hoping it was the way to the great hall. Just as she had that thought, she spied an archway up ahead. _Had it been there before?_ She wondered. Saving that thought for later, Belle peeked around the corner into a room so magnificent that it could only be the great hall.

The vaulted ceilings and high windows could have made the room airy, but the thick, dark tapestries and massive fireplace maintained an intimidating feel that echoed the exterior of the Dark Castle. Belle stood in awe for a moment before noticing a place set at the end of the table. She was delighted to find an array of breakfast foods to please even the most finicky eater. Belle picked up a kind of pastry she'd never seen before. It had a shiny glaze with a circle of jelly in the center. Belle carefully bit into it, making sure she got a bit of jelly for the full effect. Her eyes fluttered closed as she enjoyed the sweet honey taste mixed with the tangy raspberry filling.

Rumpelstiltskin peeked around the doorframe, watching her face while she enjoyed her pastry. _This is going to be fun._ He grinned and disappeared in a puff of smoke, only to reappear sitting cross-legged on the table barely an inch from her plate.

"Careful, dearie," he said, catching a glob of jelly that threatened to fall onto Belle's dress. She jumped in her chair and dropped the pastry in her lap.

"You frightened me!" She gasped. She seemed to look him up and down, taking in his appearance for the first time since he had appeared in her father's courtroom. He grinned at the blush that began to bloom on her cheeks, whether from staining her dress or getting caught staring he didn't know.

"I have that effect on people," he replied with an exaggerated air of pride and a flick of his wrist. "I trust you found your rooms suitable," he glanced at her trying to rub the raspberry out of her dress.

"I do," she said as she looked up. "Though I was surprised not to find you in them last night.

He looked taken aback. Belle hadn't meant to sound so forward. She felt her face grow hot again but she couldn't look away from his face.

"I thought you would be relieved," he finally spoke, "to not find a monster waiting in your bed."

Belle took a breath. "I was more confused to not see my husband." Rumpelstiltskin turned sideways and reclined back to lean on an elbow. He seemed very interested in a plate of fruit when he said, his voice deeper than usual, "I would not share a bed with a wife who does not will it. It gives me no pleasure." And with that, he poofed to the seat opposite Belle, suddenly surrounded by a feast matching hers.

"Have you tried the maple bacon? It may have come from a magical pig I acquired from the southern islands."

Belle accepted the abrupt change of subject with a quick chuckle. "Will it turn me purple if I eat it?" She asked cheerfully.

"Only if you choke on it. Is that a goal of yours? I've only seen you make it to red, but it was a valiant effort." This only caused her to go red again, which she tried to hide by taking a drink from her goblet.

He snickered and helped himself to another slice of bacon. "Does it snow for very long here?" Belle inquired.

"Yes, the winters here are very long. Summers are short, and sometimes fall is skipped altogether." Belle looked down, disappointed. Rumpelstiltskin leaned forward. "What's the matter dearie?"

"I'll miss the warmth. And the sun."  
"Well, it would hardly do for the Dark One of legend to live in a summer garden," he said, reclining in his chair. "Do you prefer spring?"

Belle smiled, remembering. "Midsummer's eve. I loved the festival, and the flowers. If every day could be midsummer's eve…no, that would make it less special." She sighed, slightly embarrassed for getting lost in memories.

"You'll find nothing less than special here," he said, eyes glittering. Belle met his gaze and blushed, though she didn't know why. There was a heat in his eyes that spread down into her belly. She finished her breakfast in silence, and didn't notice exactly when her husband disappeared from the table.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

After thoroughly stuffing herself, Belle decided to explore the castle that was her new home. Feeling it was wisest to start on the ground floor and work her way up, she left the great hall. Remembering how she had found the room in the first place, she thought _Please don't move the rooms. I want to see the castle as it truly is,_ as deliberately and loudly as one can think in one's own head. Finding that the hall seemed longer than the moment before, she started with the first door on the right. This room housed a great collection of materials, some newer than others judging by the amount of dust piled on them. There were clocks, toy ducks, a wheelbarrow, and an amazing pile of horseshoes, to name a few things on the topmost layer of junk. She found an old writing desk housing a small leather-bound book. Only the first few pages were filled in with what looked like an inn's log. She was surprised that an innkeeper intelligent enough to read would part with a journal so fine, but not so surprised when she remembered that her husband was involved. She placed the book in her generous dress pocket and moved on.

In the next room, she found nothing but glass. Sculptures and ornaments, poorly-blown goblets, and little glass animals that had been made when the glass was still hot by twisting the glass-blower's tongs into delicate shapes. She picked her favorite, a little striped horse, and pocketed that one as well. Rumpelstiltskin surely wouldn't miss it among all of his prizes.

In the third room, she found a funny sort of quill made of glass. The ink seemed to be stuck inside of the shaft, but still it wrote much more smoothly than a normal quill. Belle went back to the first room and sat down at the desk. Flipping to the first page following the numerical entries, she began to write.

_Dear Diary, Mid-morning, October 28th_

_It is my first day in my new home, and I think the castle is magical. I know that the fireplace and washroom have magic, but the castle itself makes no sense. When I left the great hall, I passed my bedroom door on the right when I'm certain it used to be on the left. As soon as I thought of where I wanted to go the door appeared! Maybe that's what R meant when he told me not to leave last night. Perhaps when he leaves, some of the magic leaves with him? Having nothing to do makes me feel odd. I shall ask Rumpelstiltskin what my duties are when next I see him._

_My goals for today:_

_Explore seven rooms_

_Find the kitchen and eat lunch_

_Climb to the highest room in the tallest tower_

_Have tea_

_Finish knitting blue scarf_

_Have supper_

_Sleep early_

Finishing her last swirl, she closed her new diary and replaced it in her skirt pocket. Determined to finish everything on her list, she began exploring the remaining four rooms.

At noontime, Belle found herself properly hungry. Deciding to forget about finding the kitchen herself, she thought to the castle: _I want to find the kitchen—No! Don't give it to me. Lead me there. _The castle seemed to think for a moment but soon one of the stones in the floor began to glow. Belle went toward it, and as she stepped on it the glowing ceased. Another stone farther up the corridor began to glow instead. She followed the trail of glowing stones around a few corners and down a shallow flight of stairs until she found herself in the grandest kitchen she had seen in her life.

Fragrant herbs hung from the ceiling in bunches above a massive wooden table. Belle presumed it was a cooking surface, she imagined a dozen chefs around the table preparing all sorts of food for a feast. Then, remembering that there had probably never been that many people in the castle at once, she pictured Rumpelstiltskin alone chopping vegetables and humming merrily. The image made her smile.

She decided to ask for something simple for lunch, to play it safe.

"I'd like a chicken soup with bread, please," she asked. She half expected the castle to tell her to make her own food, after she'd demanded so much from it already. It seemed the castle was not one to hold grudges as a large bowl of steaming hot soup and a fresh loaf of bread appeared on the table, accompanied by a mug of lemon tea. She promptly tucked in and, realizing that no one was watching, began enjoying her meal without the usual manners of a highborn lady. Growing up, she had always guessed that food would taste better this way. She was right.

Finally pleasantly full, Belle resumed working toward finishing her goal list. Finding the highest room in the tallest tower was her next task. After placing her used bowl and mug near the washtub, she left the kitchen and began walking purposefully. She supposed she could ask the castle to show her where the highest room was, but that would be cheating. Anyways, it would be more fun to do it her way: find stairs and climb them. This was surprisingly easy, because there were stairs everywhere. Her first staircase was shallow, like the one leading to the kitchen, but seemed to stretch for half the width of the castle. She climbed them quickly and found a fine hallway at the top. On the wall opposite the staircase hung a painting at least six feet in each direction. She paused to admire the artistry, how thick, textured swathes of oil paint were brought to life by thin, delicate strokes for detail. The scene showed a dozen children playing in a fountain that shot water high into a sunny sky, framed in part by a balcony from which Belle believed the artist viewed the scene. Vivid colors emanated from the center fountain, as though it were the children themselves who brought light into the painting despite the cloudless sky and radiant sun.

Belle made a note of this part of the castle with the painting, reminding herself to return another day. She felt embarrassed at herself for being distracted so early in her quest for the tower. The next staircase she found was behind a door in the hallway with the painting. This one was narrow and wooden with no carpet, so her steps sounded hollow and she climbed the steep steps. At the top of these stairs, she found two more staircases. One, similar to the last, ascended straight up leading to a trapdoor. The second she noticed through an archway was painted white with pink peonies carved into the banister. Even more impressively, it wound about above itself in a spiral. Belle debated between the two for a moment, then decided to follow the spiraled staircase. _This one must be held up by magic_, she thought, since no one would seek to build such an impractical staircase that wasn't even in a tower!

At least, she thought so at first. But the more she climbed, the more she realized the problem with these stairs: she could not see the top. So she continued on, determined. Seconds passed to minutes, minutes seemed to pass to hours as her legs began to ache from the repetitive motion and her lungs began to protest against her corset. Finally she rested, sitting on the stair and leaning against the one above it to loosen her corset a little. She tugged on the strings and made space for her to breathe deeply, relishing the new freedom. As she caught her breath, she pulled out the glass figurine from her pocket. The little horse had black and white stripes around its back and legs, fading to white on its belly and black on its nose. She twisted it between her fingers and dropped it before she realized what she had done. She saw the glass horse bounce down the stairs and heard it continue farther away. But then…it sounded like it came from above? Belle turned to look up the staircase just in time to see her glass horse bounce off a step and straight into her lap. _These are definitely magic stairs._ In light of this new development, only one thing could be done: go the other way. So she stood and took one step down, and found herself at a landing that was quite different from what she left at the bottom of the staircase.

This hallway (which she hurried into away from the stairs) was short in both length and height and was rounded on one wall, which told Belle that she was, in fact, in a tower. If she couldn't find another staircase here, she would be happy to find a window. She opened the first door on her left and found the most lavish broom cupboard a person could imagine. She shook her head, smiling at herself for not being surprised.

She crossed the hallway to open the second door. Wind rushed into her face and she looked out to see that this room had no fourth wall but was open to the elements. From her place at the door she could see over the edge. Her eyes widened and she became dizzy at the idea of height to the point of panic. Somewhere inside her, common sense forced her to shut the door and the wind stopped. The castle was silent now except for her own breath. She leaned against the wall for support and gathered herself back together. She had never been afraid of heights, and she decided she wouldn't start today. Righting herself, she paced across the hall on unsteady feet to open the third door.

She turned the iron knob and pushed the door open slightly, without peeking in, just in case this room was the same as the last. No harsh winds rushed in, but she noticed popping noises, and fizzing noises, and a mellow constant bubbling that set the pace like percussion. She saw a room, larger than she expected, filled with books, cauldrons, glass containers, several of which were filled with liquid, and two oddly shaped bowls on a table that issued the popping and fizzing noises accompanied by mushrooms of purple and yellow smoke. A stout silver cauldron sat on the floor whose bubbling potion was being stirred by magic, and behind it was Rumpelstiltskin who looked up in surprise.


End file.
